


All You Want to Remember (and What You Can't Forget)

by gutturalmess



Series: Deleted Scenes [6]
Category: CodotVerse, DC - Fandom, DCU
Genre: Gen, Nashton Family Portrait, The Invisible Mother, The Pacifistic Sister, The Shame on the Family Name, The Wrathful Father
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-04-07 13:16:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19085815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gutturalmess/pseuds/gutturalmess
Summary: We are all but constructs of what people decide they know about us - this is Edward seen through his father's eyes.





	All You Want to Remember (and What You Can't Forget)

By your reckoning, the best gift your wife could give you was a son. Exhausted, eyes tipping closed, Ellen handed him off to you with a smile. Wrapped in blue blankets, the little bundle fussed a little in your arms and then settled as he stared up at you; the colour of his eyes was still cloudy. You hoped they would come to be brown, like yours, and could not help a proud grin when you saw the dark red hair already smattered across his soft head.  
“Got my hair,” you said, entranced.  
“Mm.”  
“And so handsome!” You marvelled at how the two of you could produce such a sweet thing. “For sure, that’s my boy.”  
“You bet,” Ellen said softly, content now the hard work was over; your happiness insulated her like cotton wool. You reached a finger out to touch his nose and he grabbed it with his own tiny fingers; you laughed.  
“What a grip! He’s a strong boy.”  
Despite valiant efforts to stay awake, Ellen had fallen asleep. You dropped your voice to a whisper, dancing around the room as you cooed to your son.  
“You’re gonna be a big strong boy, just like your dad. We’re gonna throw footballs… toss baseballs… drink beer… and one day, we’ll turn that old garage into Nashton and Son.”  
Heart swelling, you kissed his forehead. The boy wrinkled his nose, burrowing down into his blankets. You laughed again.  
“Don’t like kisses, eh? That’ll change when you get older, my boy.”  
Your son continued to look into your eyes, like he was trying to figure you out.  
“Son, I’m your dad,” you said; he blinked his big eyes at you. “And your name… is Edward. Edward Henry Nashton.” Unable to resist, you kissed his face again, breathing in his clean scent. “And you’re gonna make me so proud.”

*

He did at first. The doctor said he would start talking at 12 months, and then make words at 18 months; your son was making sentences at a year old. The guide said that ‘mama’ or ‘dada’ would be among his first noises - at 6 months old, Edward sat up, pointed a chubby digit at his chest, and said ‘Eddie’.  
Ellen had shrieked with delight. “That’s right! You’re Eddie!”  
The boy nodded, mouth set; he knew he was right. It was no fluke; that evening your son threw his bottle off the side of his high chair with a pout and, “Eddie no like.”  
His eyes had shifted into the same green as those of his mother and now they were glittering with defiance, daring either of you to contradict him. But you were both so thrilled at your little prodigy, you gave him the peas from your plate, that same chubby digit determinedly pointing at them: he wanted to try what the adults were having. Since he knew what he wanted, why not give it to him?  
“My clever boy,” you laughed, ruffling his hair. Eddie grimaced under the touch as he put peas in his mouth, one by one.

*

By the time he was three years old, Eddie had learned to read. You would watch him as he worked, little tongue poking out the side of his mouth as he held a crayon and wrote his own name. Eddie liked being on his own and you were grateful for the peace; lately your son had taken to asking you all the questions of the universe. When you didn’t know and made something up, he would tilt his head at you and say,  
“Are you sure, Daddy?”  
How the hell did he know you were lying? You felt so… picked apart by that stare. Like a bug under a magnifying glass. Eventually you started telling him to go bother his mother. Your own son, a toddler, was making you feel like a moron. But dammit, those non-stop questions were getting on your nerves. When he got fussy about the lack of answers, Ellen would take him to the library. The boy would get more excited there than anywhere else; he would run off and hide with a pile of books. If you let him, he would stay there for hours, stuffing his hungry brain with everything he could get his hands on. Though she never complained, you felt a pang of guilt at fobbing the boy off on Ellen; she was pregnant again and dog-tired all day. This time she felt sure she was having a girl, and you hoped it was true. A little boy and a little girl - that’d be the way to round out your perfect little family.

*

“Susan Marie Nashton,” you said, smiling down at your daughter. “Little Susie. Daddy’s gonna take real good care of you.”  
Eddie, four years old and kicking his sneakered feet off the edge of the chair beside his sleeping mother’s bed, stared at this new person without a word.  
“Come meet your baby sister, Eddie,” you said, beckoning. Eddie climbed off the chair and moved closer, watching the pink bundle; he stood on tiptoe and raised his hands to rest on the edges of her bed.  
“Careful,” you warned; he turned. If you didn’t know better, you’d swear your own son was giving you a patronising look; annoyance flared in your gut. He’s just a kid, you tell yourself. Just a kid.  
“I know, Daddy,” he said. Suspicious, you watched as he pressed his fingertips against Susan’s cheek.  
“Susie,” he whispered, a rare smile lighting up his face; your heart softened. “You’re my sister.”  
“That’s right, Eddie,” you said. “Your sister.”  
“ _My_ sister,” he said firmly; it was so cute, it made you chuckle.  
“You’ll always watch over your sister, won’t you, Eddie?”  
The boy looked up into his eyes and nodded, face serious. “Yes, Daddy.”

*

Your son was fourteen years old and rotten with it. Smart-alec asshole. Calling you an idiot in front of everyone, rolling his eyes whenever you opened your mouth like he couldn’t stand the sound of your voice. Laughing that goddamn laugh of his. Fuckin’ genius kids? You could keep ‘em. Who the hell did he think he was, anyway? Talkin’ down to people like they weren’t worth the time of day. It would have been easier if - if… God, why couldn’t he be more like Susie? Yes Daddy, No Daddy, I love you Daddy. Obedient. Respectful. Like a kid is supposed to be. Such a sweet girl, trying to stop Eddie from being an ass by stepping between them. The blood roared in your ears at the thought of what he kept dragging his baby sister into - the little bastard. You had figured that that would be the end of it, but Eddie had moved her aside. Not even rough - just a soft touch and a shake of his head.  
“No, Zuzu,” he had said, voice stuttering with fear. “Not this time.”  
Eddie had lifted his chin to look at you, tears trembling on the lower lids of those devil’s green eyes; Susie had eyes only for him, round and scared like a trapped rabbit.  
“Please… he’s just a boy, Jackie…” Ellen begged, voice thin and miles away though she was only in the kitchen; you ignored her. You couldn’t see the boy he was, still half a foot your junior; you saw the swaggering man he pretended to be, and time seemed to stop. Now your little Susie was crying over her misbegotten brother, head resting on his chest and clinging to the fabric of his shirt, torn at the collar. There was blood on her dress; the sound of her screaming at the top of her lungs had been what finally snapped you out of it. Slamming the door behind you, the sound of your wife’s howling grief rang through your head in discord with the approaching sirens; it wasn’t your fault. It was _his_. Why didn’t he _listen_? Where was the _respect_? You kicked at a tree, impotent rage overflowing.  
“Goddamn you, Eddie,” you yelled into the night. “Why did you have to fight back?”

*

For the first time since she was a baby, you woke to the sound of your daughter crying. You found her on her brother’s bed. A moment passed as you watched her, curled into a fetal position and clutching one of his shirts. It took you a moment to find the words.  
“Where is he?”  
There was no reaction: she must not have heard you. Eddie was probably out all night with no care for his family: eighteen year olds did shit like that. Just wait ‘til he gets home.  
“Susie.”  
Finally, she looked up. Misery ravaged her face; a stab went through your heart at the pain her stupid brother must have caused. The poor girl was only fourteen: just a baby.  
“He’s… he’s…” Susie dissolved into sobs. “Gone.”  
Looking around, you took in what he left behind: furniture. Clothes. Books. Everything. Out of some dumb habit he’d made the bed, though Susie was making a mess of it. Looks like he just took what he could carry and the clothes on his back: he must have slipped away during the night while they were all asleep, oblivious. Despite Susie’s presence, there was an empty feeling to the room. So he was gone, then. You took a deep breath and let it out with a shaky exhale. Obviously he would go someday, but this was too soon; turned out Eddie was braver than you’d figured. Wincing, you pressed a hand to your chest: you’d thought that when Eddie left, the poisonous thorn in your heart would be removed. Since he was the source of all that was wrong in your perfect family, then no Eddie, no problem, right? Wrong. With him so departed like a thief in the night, you felt only hate pouring over your body like lava. That’s how you’ll fix that smug shit, once and for all.  
“No more tears, honey.”  
Susie looked up, not understanding.  
“Don’t cry any tears for Eddie. We’ll tell people he went missing.”  
“What?” Susie laughed in choked disbelief. “You might as well tell people he’s dead.”  
Light dawned on your face. “There’s my clever girl! Good idea.”  
“What? No, I didn’t mean it.”  
“Didn’t wanna be part of this family anyway.”  
“Daddy, no.”  
“‘S a good idea. Whatever he does now, he’s not our problem.”  
Susie opened and closed her mouth, stunned.  
“Ungrateful boy,” you snarled, fury spewing forth, “to just leave like this - must hate us. All of us.”  
“No,” Susie pulled her arms around herself, repeatedly shaking her head. “No, he just -”  
“Doesn’t care about us at all.”  
“No -”  
“Only fair we do the same in return,” you smiled; Susie lifted her clasped hands in entreaty.  
“Please, Daddy. I could look for him…”  
“No arguments, Susie.”  
“But -”  
“And no more tears, I said,” you warned her, nodding as she lifted one hand to wipe a sleeve over her eyes. “That’s a good girl.”  
You moved toward her and kissed her forehead.  
“We’re better off, after all the trouble he caused. You’ll see.”  
Leaving the room, you pretended not to hear her start to cry again: you figured you owed her that one.


End file.
